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It seemed like only a matter of minutes after “Singin’ In The Rain” came down that I was pulled back into the fray with the following year’s “Winter Rainbow” production. Ron and Ken had intimated that they’d already thrown my hat in the ring to direct and, one evening following a coaching class at Ken’s Studio, they made it official. The show? “A Chorus Line”! I inwardly thrilled at the thought of putting up this fabled show, but my excitement was tempered with some trepidation because of what I’d just been through with “Singin’”. There would have to be some very specific conditions met, and with the “never say never” phrase still bouncing around in my head, a meeting was set up for the following week.

MSI continued to fill my days, so fully in fact that we ended up hiring a Temp from Kelly Services to address some of the work Sam was generating, mainly the recorded dictation he had taken to putting out daily. I had told him long ago that I would never take dictation. It was, for me, a holdover from the days working in Martin Strauss’s office at Stage West and the visceral loathing I had at being considered someone’s secretary. Tracy, the Temp, had no problem transferring the extended Dictaphone tapes Sam would courier from wherever he was, and she’d pass along the things that needed my attention. By now, the list of shows either on tour, about to open or in prep was enormous! Nothing was small anymore. And for Sam, it all had to be done NOW! Then, as if one additional employee wasn’t enough, we lured the very capable Cathleen Enns away from the Manitoba Theatre Center’s Administration team to become Sam’s Assistant. How had it come to this? Well, what seemed to have been the blink of an eye had actually taken almost four years, a long time for Sam and me to be slogging through it all alone. The pressure seemed to have diminished, but it was just that now there were more people taking care of more work. I was amazed.

The Rainbow meeting with Ken was very productive. I told him at the get-go that there were three deal-breakers. First, unlike “Singin’ In The Rain”, there would be no karaoke orchestra for “A Chorus Line”. He knew that had been a mistake and had no problem agreeing to a full live orchestra. Second was the amount of rehearsal time for the show. There would be no two-week-start-to-finish nonsense. Not a problem. Finally, I was adamant that the “Singin’” Chorus Director would have minimal hands on my show. Agreed. I called Ken back following day to confirm all of my conditions, just to double check that he’d actually heard everything I said. He had. I signed the contract, and we were off to the races.

In the meantime, I was called in for the “42^nd Street” auditions. Robbie (Paterson) was directing and while I had already been cast as ‘Julian Marsh’ he needed me to do some reading with folks and I was happy to be a part of that process. Robbie had been in a terrible car accident a couple of days previous. His car had been totaled, he’d broken a finger and had put his back out. Arriving for the first day of readings, I went over and hugged him and could feel him cringe at my touch. With a major intake of Tylenol 3, he managed to keep everything on an even keel for most of the day. But by mid-afternoon he was fading, and I found myself scrounging for additional medication for him from the dancers sitting in the waiting room. Dancers are always good for a painkiller or two. Somehow, he managed to turn these audition days into parties, making sure everyone was feeling at ease and attended to. Being “in the room” gave me an inside bead on who might be in the running for the various roles, and I was pretty happy with what seemed to be the preliminary casting thoughts … not that I had any say in the matter. Scott (Drewitz) was again choreographing and had brought in a number of excellent dancers from his Calgary Studio as possibilities to fill out the Ensemble ranks. We were in good shape!

One great thing about Robbie had always been his prep for the shows he was directing. His attention to detail was astonishing. He wanted to be able to answer any question posed by his casts, and if he didn’t have an answer right off the top of his head, he’d start a conversation on the spot that would invariably solve the problem. It was this kind of engagement that found us spending hours on the phone or sitting in my living room discussing the character and his circumstances, setting me on solid ground for my work on ‘Julian Marsh’. We agreed that there was a deeper core to the show, not just the huge production numbers and comedy banter. Like me in real life, ‘Julian’ was going through an inner turmoil which juxtaposed the light and airy musical comedy track against the angst of physically putting it all together for an audience. Yeah, perhaps that was digging too deep, but it was a hanger for the man I was about to play. To get from the beginning of the show to the final reprise of “42^nd Street” was a moment to moment journey that became very personal. In the end he is alone, reflecting on what, at the core of everything, doing Theatre really meant – the excitement, the apprehension and anxiety, the celebration, and the love of the experience. It was in those hours of discussion that Robbie and I found the base line for ‘Julian’, and I approached the rehearsals feeling up and with a personal security firmly in place.

I had to dash back to New York for some Music Services business and some business of my own. It was early April, and the East Coast was still prone to winter weather, so my journey was fraught with delays out of Toronto. We had arranged for me to attend the MAC (Manhattan Association of Cabarets) Awards ceremony where Barry (Manilow) was receiving a tribute from the organization. The show was starting at 7:30 at Town Hall in Midtown. My flight to LaGuardia from Toronto was scheduled to leave at 1:00 but, because of a snowstorm in New York it was delayed until 2:00, then 3:00, then indefinitely. I dashed around the airport with my retrieved luggage trying to find another flight on any airline. I got a ticket on a flight that was taking off at 4:40 but this one was landing in Newark, New Jersey, much further out from Manhattan than LaGuardia. We landed at 6:20. It took another ten minutes for my bag to come off and then I had to wait in the taxi cue for a half hour to get a cab to dash me into the city. I had kept Gary Keif (Barry’s manager) apprised of my progress because they had set aside a ticket for me, and I didn’t want them to release it. I was fortunate to get a superb, dare-devil driver who got me from Newark to the theatre in 24 minutes flat – unheard of … thank heavens it was Sunday night – and I got one of the usher folks to put my bag and stuff in a safe place. I met with Gary and Barry but only for a minute and was in my seat (behind Barry) just as the lights were going down.

To tell the truth, even though they’d made a fuss when I met with them, I felt so out of my depth and something of a sham sitting there with the stars of the New York Cabaret scene … and there were a lot of them. Everyone knew everyone else and the buzz and laughter in the house was tumultuous. Cabaret Legend Julie Wilson opened the show, Karen Mason sang as did Alix Korey and a number of young performers working their way up the ladder. Bobby Short entertained just like I’d heard him do on recordings for as long as I can remember with his plaintive smokey voice and elegant piano playing. Then it was Barry’s turn. He walked up to the stage to a huge roar from the house. After all, he was one of their own! He did a chronology of his musical life, so wonderfully at ease at the piano and with his banter and supremely polished, all of which made it clear why he was the star he was. It was magical and I was caught up in the heady atmosphere of these New York cabaret elites celebrating this distinctively New York form of entertainment. The crush afterward was crazy, but I managed to find Gary and express my thanks for the ticket. It wouldn’t be too long before I’d be back with Barry in a much larger capacity at a much larger venue … contracting his Orchestra at Radio City Music Hall!

Another of my jobs in NYC was to nail down a Musical Director for “A Chorus Line”. Since there weren’t any suitable (or available) MD’s in Winnipeg, Sam had made some suggestions along the way. There was no doubt that he saw my now-more-substantial involvement with Rainbow as another source of contracting work and because Sam always had the music quality uppermost in his head, this prospect excited me. I would get the benefit of his expertise. He told me to touch base with Phil Reno who was, at the time, the Musical Director and Pianist for Barry Humphrey’s (‘Dame Edna’) Broadway show – “An Audience With Dame Edna”. We’d spoken very briefly on the phone, and he graciously arranged a couple of tickets for me. I don’t think I’ve ever laughed so hard at a show in my life! I was with good Portland-now-New-Yorker-friend Sue Benson, and within minutes of the show starting we were doubled over with tears running down our cheeks as the ‘Dame’ built the hysteria based on improvised exchanges and interactions with unsuspecting people in the audience. It was impossible not to get caught up in the fun. I kept looking at Phil, sitting on stage at the piano in front of the orchestra, trying to get a sense of what it would be like to work with him. He seemed totally committed to the work and was enjoying the experience in the process. Following the show we met at the Stage Door, and I was struck by how young he was and how affable and accommodating. He greeted me like a long lost brother after reminding that we had met in Calgary while I was putting up the “Music of the Night” Tour a few years back. We chatted about the show, and I thanked him for the tickets. Then, I took a stab at the request. Would he be up for doing “ACL” for seven weeks in far-off Winnipeg in the dead of Winter? Yes, he would be! I couldn’t believe it. It wasn’t the time to talk details, but he told me to call him, and we would discuss it further. Another task completed!

I crammed in a bunch of shows and MSI meetings and took an afternoon to watch the Archival Recording of the original Public Theatre production of ‘A Chorus Line” which was salted away in the extensive “Billy Rose Collection” at the Performing Arts Library in Lincoln Center. I had to practically sign my life away to watch the 25-year-old black and white VHS tape which had obviously been played hundreds of times. Its quality was incredibly poor, and the picture would distort and blur from time to time. I watched it twice. Seeing the show in its infancy and looking at the characters from a purely academic point of view, I realized the great difference between them and who we had to draw on from the Winnipeg performer population, particularly with regard to age. The originals were seasoned artists who had spent a goodly part of their lives in show business and knew the highs and lows of being on “the line”. Our kids back home didn’t have that kind of experience, neither in Life nor the Theatre. We were going to have to find good actors – performers who were not only excellent singers and dancers but who could convincingly portray folks who had had been doing this a lot longer than they had. That task would be much more difficult than I thought and would cause me a LOT of angst. But I had to let all that go for a bit … there were other things to take care of.

Once back home I managed to squeeze in some days of Musical Theatre Adjudications at a few out-of-town Music Festivals. Watching those young performers rejuvenated me somewhere deep down inside, and now, with ‘Julian Marsh’ about to consume me, I was tugging at the bit to get going. But MSI was demanding some attention too as the list of projects continued to grow. Barry was still doing his touring schedule, “The Music of Andrew Lloyd Webber” was about to go out, Patsy Cline was still running, “Berlin To Broadway” was up, “Romancin’” was in pre-production, “Last of The Mohicans” was in planning stages, “Hotel Porter” was in workshops and The Calgary Stampede Grandstand Show was burgeoning. I needed to feel a stage under MY feet and, soon enough, we were in the Rehearsal Hall with “42^nd Street” in full swing.

The cast was full of local faces and the first week whizzed by. For me, there was no “musical theatre” schtick to play. I was treating ‘Julian’ as a serious role. There were, of course, the characters who balanced the show with those make-‘em-laugh antics and they did it really well. Debbie Maslowsky and Jeff Skinner as ‘Maggie’ and ‘Bert’ were fresh and funny, Stan Lesk as ‘Abner Dillon’ was playing it to the hilt, Michael Smolash (from Toronto) as ‘Billy Lawlor’ was young and avid and Chris Sigurdson as ‘Pat Denning’ was touchingly affecting. Brenda Gorlick was ‘Dorothy Brock’ and ‘Peggy Sawyer’ was being played by the great Leslie Drewitz (Scott’s wife). The room was always room buzzing, hive-like and the energy was contagious. In one form or another everyone had personal traits of people they were playing and there was, for the most part, a natural quality to the work. For me, and because of ‘Julian’s’ arc, there was a lot more restraint. There is a quiet desperation under his surface. He knows that this is pretty much his swan song and he’s holding on for dear life as things begin to crumble around him. His love for ‘the biz’ is baked-in but the eventuality of leaving it eats at his insides.

I didn’t know if I was playing the part or if it was playing me. I was feeling respected in the room, but then playing “the great man” carried a degree of built-in deference from those around him. I thought that it might have something to do with the seriousness I was bringing to the process. I began to sense that folks were looking to me for tone and approach. There were times when I felt “pushy” by making suggestions to Robbie about a scene or a moment, but he encouraged the input. It was another case of being in my actor-director quandary … when I was acting I wanted to be directing and when I was directing I wanted to be acting. There were times when I had to hold my tongue, but no one took umbrage when I did express my thoughts. It was all going incredibly well.

Scott’s choreography was astonishing. The fact that “the kids” were so into it and that it was all so “show-bizzy” made every dance rehearsal a celebration of the craft. They were all living the experience to the fullest. And so was I. There was a moment late in rehearsals when it was time for me to do the reprise of “42^nd Street”. The song happens at the very end of the show when ‘Julian’ expresses what being in this business has meant to him, letting out all his pent-up feelings. We’d rehearsed it musically a number of times over the previous days, but had never put it on its feet. The entire cast was standing against the walls in the room. Robbie came up to my ear and said, “I have a few ideas if you want them”. “Let’s see what happens”, I whispered back. I was slightly nervous to do it full out in context for the first time, but I knew in my gut where it had to go. There is a small after-the-show scene with ‘Peggy’ as she heads off to the party, leaving ‘Julian’ alone on stage. He looks out into the darkened house. The music starts, slowly, freely – “Come and meet those dancing feet …” – all his thoughts about the Theatre slowly tumbling out – “on the Avenue I’m taking you to …” – how wonderful, bewildering, fulfilling it was. He describes the theatre people – “little nifties from the fifties innocent and sweet, sexy ladies from the eighties who are indiscreet” and the song gathers steam as he declares “they’re side by side, they’re glorified” and finally yelling into the darkness – “naughty, bawdy, gawdy, sporty …” – the triumph surging in his moment of success and winding up on a high (for me at 55) Gb – “For-ty-SE-COND Street!”. There was a moment of silence and the cast erupted in applause and hoots. I felt like crying at the release of the emotion that had led up to the moment, both in the story and in rehearsal. It bode well as we moved out to the Stage.

We were also working on “Chorus Line” casting at the same time. I wasn’t going to wait till the last minute like we’d done with “Singin’” and getting Bill Robertson confirmed as choreographer gave me a trusted partner-in-crime to lean on. All the roles are major in this show, and each has their moment to shine. There is no hiding in the shadows. Everyone is exposed in one way or another and their qualities and characteristics are very specific. While we would probably have to go to Toronto for a couple of folks, there were some good in-town choices for most of the roles and I’d been getting a lot of calls from dancers asking to be considered. But I needed to get the role of ‘Zack’, the director in the show, pinned down first. Jorden Morris was a Principal Dancer with the Royal Winnipeg Ballet and the first person who came to mind for the part. Over many conversations I had convinced him that he would be perfect in the role, and he’d agreed to do it. I knew finding a ‘Cassie’ in Winnipeg would be a challenge and that was another reason to hit Toronto. A fall jaunt was definitely in the cards.

Moving to the Stage for a Rainbow production always heightened the excitement and energy for a show’s cast. Entering this new stage of the process gave everyone a lift and, despite the mechanical and technical difficulties we knew we’d encounter, the initial on-stage rehearsals went pretty well. But there was an element to moving to the Stage that had always and would continue to bother me. It was the “Camp Rainbow” syndrome. For some reason I could never fathom, the Ensemble would collectively revert to a Kids-At-Summer-Camp Mentality and the discipline that had been at the foundation of the rehearsals went flying out the window.

Being in a beautiful natural setting (Rainbow Stage is located in the middle of the huge Kildonan Park in Winnipeg’s North End) was not really conducive to rehearsing – too many distractions, too many opportunities to let the energy dissipate – and, as far as I was concerned, too much partying after hours which invariably resulted in dragging butts at the following day’s rehearsal. It drove me nuts! But, as is always the case, we muddled through. There were some bumps along the way, but Robbie managed to keep a positive spin on everything for the Company. There was a moment late in the process at the stage when, seeing that he was not having the best of days dealing with the sets, a sod of a crew chief (who was let go) and production problems, I came up to him and he put his arms around me and whispered, “Hold me and never let me go”, a line from the show. We held on to each other for a moment, stepped back, laughed and got back to work.

Opening was just days away.